The Alpha and the Delta The Clone Wars
by AllenGaynor
Summary: Two Federation vessels end up in the middle of the Clone Wars. How they ended up their is a mystery, as is how they will return to their rightful universe. Rating for Mild-Moderate Language, violence, mild blood and suggestive themes.
1. Strange Encounters

As the forty-nine-year-old Captain stood on the lift, she ran through the previous fourteen years of her life in her head. _Fourteen years...we've been waiting to get home for over a decade._ She smiled, thinking of how it seemed that almost yesterday she had taken on a rowdy, young Tom Paris. Yes, it had been a long time, but she was still learning about her crew, no matter how many of them she had known for that entire fourteen years...or longer. She stood with her hands behind her back, breathing in the recycled air. _We've repaired timelines, faced off with the Borg, helped try to cure the Vedean Phage...there's still so much more we're going to do. I can feel it. I know there's a lot more to come._

Kathryn Janeway was certain that there were, however, still going to be some mysteries left in the universe when...yes, when...they returned home. "I'm not going to be a century old when this is over," she told herself aloud.

For a moment, she reflected yet again on their recent acquisition of star charts that would bring them that much closer to home. _They didn't give them up lightly, but they realized we needed help._

Captain Kathryn Janeway stepped out of the lift doors, surveying the bridge about her. "Mr. Tuvok, what is our status?"

"We are headed toward Earth at Maximum warp, Captain," replied the Vulcan, his voice the flat monotone the crew had come to love. "Wait…" The Vulcan's ears detected the computer blip before the rest of the crew on the bridge could respond. "…Captain, I am picking up an ionic emission, possibly from a wormhole."

"Approximate location?" said Janeway, ready to change course.

"We have just entered the wormhole," said Tuvok, bracing himself as the bridge shook.

* * *

Captain Janeway marveled as the viewscreen went suddenly bright, then died to show a starfield that was just like any other...but she knew that it wasn't right. "Captain," said Lieutenant Tom Parris, studying his control panel, "We aren't in the Delta Quadrant, anymore." He looked up at her. "We aren't anywhere in what we'd call 'known space,' for that matter.

Captain Janeway stood, immediately staring out the viewer. "First the Delta Quadrant, then a wormhole to...where?" She studied her crew, bewildered. Tuvok was first to speak.

"It could be, Captain, that we have been transported to an alternate universe. However, I am showing no concrete data to suggest that we are in any type of unknown space, save for what the navigational sensors can tell us. Furthermore, I deduce that the Spatial Harmonics have been somehow...tampered with." The Vulcan looked on. "It could be that even a single Harmonic String could have been manipulated, whether in our own universe or in this one, so that the wormhole might have opened in an adjacent sector of our own universe and brought us in."

"Captain," said Tom, "Picking up a vessel. Looks like their weapons are charged." Tom looked over his shoulder, then back at the screen. "And I don't think that's a fighter escort."

"Evasive maneuvers! Red alert!" The orders were immediately carried out, the _Voyager_ banking starboard to evade a full salvo of protonic missiles fired by fighters that looked as though they had no pilot. "Standby all weapons, lock phasers! Tom, get us as close as humanly possible to that ship! I want to evade their weapons fire as long as possible!"

"Aye, Captain!" replied Tom, maneuvering the Intrepid-Class starship close enough to the unfriendly ship as he could. "This close enough for you, Captain?"

"Cut the sarcasm, Tom! Bring us about! Fire a full salvo of photons at anything that looks important!"

Tuvok responded rapidly, pressing a sequence of keys that unleashed what would have been a deadly salvo if the ship had not had such unfamiliar technology. "No effect, Captain," replied Tuvok.

_Voyager's_ bridge shook as Tuvok's console chimed. "Dorsal shielding is down to seventy-three percent, Captain."

"Tom, evasive pattern Beta! Tuvok, take out their weapons. I want a nice clean shot!" As the _Voyager_ maneuvered about for another run, coming in at high impulse, she took a hit on her port side. "Tuvok, full spread of torpedoes to their shields! Concentrate phasers on their weapons! Tom, maneuver us as close as you can figure to their bridge!"

"Captain," said Tuvok, "The vessel's bridge is halfway across the dorsal section of their hull. Their shields are plasmic, but will sustain a number of hits from projectile units."

"When we come about from their starboard, throw everything you've got at that bridge! I don't care if it's destroyed or damaged, I need to be able to outrun the bastards!"

Tuvok tapped keys on his console, responding with speed and effieciency seen in very few organic species. On the screen, Captain Janeway watched as the shields on their attackers seemingly gave way. "Their shields are down, Captain. We have three torpedoes left in the bays."

"Save them and open with a few friendly phasers, full tactical spread. Tom, get us in closer."

She watched from the command chair as Tom keyed in commands. "Captain, I don't mean to harp, but...closer?"

"Dammit, Tom! Move us in!"

"I was already doing that, Captain." The bridge shook, this time more violently than the other times the Intrepid-Class vessel had taken hits, and sparks flew from a few unfortunate consoles on the aft section of the command center.

"We have lost warp and impulse, Captain. Maneuvering thrusters remain, but they may not hold. Warp plasma is venting into space from starboard warp nacelle. We have lost port shielding."

"Keep our port away from them, Tom!"

"Aye, Captain." Tom responded more quickly than even Janeway had thought possible for the avid, young Lieutenant. _Voyager_ banked, her ventral phasers pounding the bridge of the enemy ship incessantly.

"Their bridge is heavily damaged, Captain, but we are unable to sustain phaser power for more than thirty seconds at the present rate."

"Break off attack and take us toward the nearest M-class planet you can find, Mr. Tuvok. Coordinate your efforts with Mr. Parris."

Tom maneuvered the _Voyager_ twenty-thousand kilometers out of the ship's range, but their fighters were persistent, and the battery was giving maneuvering thrusters one hell of a time. "Captain," said B'Ellana Torres, "We've got trouble with our engines! The warp core can't take much more of this! We'll have to eject!"

"We are approximately fourteen lightyears from any Class-M planet," stated Tuvok. "We will either let the core detonate or stand our ground."

Captain Janeway had just given the order to eject their precious warp core when another vessel made its way at an unbelievable rate onto their sensors. "We are receiving a hail, Captain."

"Onscreen."

The face of a middle-aged officer appeared on the main viewer. "Unidentified vessel, stand down and identify yourself!"

"Captain Katherine Janeway of the Federation Starship _Voyager_," replied Janeway. "We were attacked by the vessel closing on us."

The officer gave a considering look. "Are you able to jump to hyperspace?" he said.

It was Captain Janeway's turn to be confused. "Hyperspace? May I ask what that is?"

The officer looked offscreen for a moment, then turned back to the crew on the bridge. "We'll talk about this later. When we have the full details, it will be after this engagement. Yularen, out."

* * *

_Enterprise E_

Captain Jean-Luc Picard, level headed to a very fine point and harsh when he needed to be but caring and kind, had always loved mingling with the crew of the _Enterprise_. Although it was rare to see him show much emotion aside from consideration of this or that, whatever the important matter happened to be at that time, he had a smile that, when seen by the crew, assured them that their Captain was in a good mood, and likewise approached him whenever they needed to discuss matters.

It was with some reluctance that he had been called out of his private quarters just before he had been about to lie down for a much needed afternoon nap. _I'm going to have to remind Mr. Data that I don't want to be bothered with another discussion on human behavior...particularly when that behavior is the behavior of children or teenagers...and never, ever, when I - am - napping!_

Picard stepped onto a lift and spoke, his voice a bit louder than he had meant it to sound, but he did not particularly care at that moment. "Bridge!" The lift started up, and only once or twice stopped to pick up a passenger or two. Whether anyone spoke to him, he did not notice. He simply needed to deal with Lieutenant Data, at the moment.

Arriving on the bridge, Picard spoke to Data. "What is it, Mr. Data?" he snapped, standing behind the android with some impatience. Data looked up at his Captain, then back down at his console. "A spatial anomoly has appeared on navigational sensors, Captain," he said, tapping a few keys. "They did not appear on any of our known maps or star charts. What is odd is that the ionic emissions showing on our sensors are of unknown origin, and composition is difficult to establish."

"Where does it lie in relation to our course, Mr. Data?"

Data pressed a few more keys on the touchscreen board in front of him and his brow furrowed, showing an odd combination of curiosity and concern. "We are too close to alter course, Captain. The wormhole has pulled us in." As Data spoke these words, the entire _Enterprise_ shook, almost as if in response.

Picard grasped the chair Data sat in, holding on with everything he could. On the viewscreen, though at first he did not notice, the starfield had accelerated to an impossible array of colors and swirling shapes, now and then showing a view of a starfield, standing still in the distance behind these, always giving a view of globules of shifting shapes over static, almost as though they were looking into a lava lamp.

"I am showing that no time has passed from the time we entered the wormhole to the time we returned to normal space, Captain," said Worf before Picard had realized that the _Enterprise_ had slowed to impulse.

"What's the situation, Mr. Worf? Casualties? Damage? Function?"

"Reporting fourteen non-fatal casualties, Sir. The worst Dr. Crusher has reported is a fractured jaw. Damage to the ship is minimal. Everything aside from Navigation and Engineering reports normal."

"What's the status in Engineering, Worf?"

"The warp core has been disrupted, but it should take no more than a few hours to restore full function. Navigation reports that..." Worf looked up to the Captain, who returned his gaze. "...they cannot identify our location, Captain."

Jean-Luc returned his gaze to the main viewer, which showed him a view of beautiful, ever-present stars that, if he was correct, should be somewhere in the Alpha Quadrant. But the starfield on the main viewer was unusual to Captain Jean-Luc Picard, who now sat in the command chair on the bridge of the Enterprise. "What happened, Mr. Data?"

The android turned toward him. Dr. Sung had done an excellent job in making him almost human, and it was with some difficulty that Picard forced himself not to laugh. "It appears as though we have entered an alternate universe, Captain," said Data, optical sensors showing mild curiosity. This was not unusual in the android. "Known star charts are useless here, and it..." Data was about to continue when his console chimed. Turning toward it, Data said, "It appears as though there is weapons fire just out of visual range, sir." The android turned to his Captain. "Should I set a course?"

"Do it, Mr. Data. Full impulse power. Yellow alert, Mr. Worf. And while you're at it, see if you can't contact any vessels that might be doing the shooting."

"Aye, sir," answered the bass-voiced Klingon, tapping his console. After a few tries and several moments, "No response, Sir. However, I am picking up a signal the sensors identify as _NCC-74656 Voyager_."

"_Voyager_?" said Picard, stroking his chin. "Whatever is Janeway doing here?"

"We are being hailed, sir."

"Onscreen, Mr. Worf."

"Glad to see you, Jean-Luc," said the familiar face of Captain Katherine Janeway. "It's been nearly fourteen years."

"No doubt some things have happened," replied Picard, standing. "What's going on at the moment?"

"Not much. A vessel of the Venator class, the _Resolute_, is finishing some rather rough shooting. They've agreed to assess the situation before helping us."

"I've never heard of those," said Jean-Luc, referring to the vessel and her affiliated classification. "Where are we? How did we get here?"

"Who knows? But I'll tell you one thing...it's going to be one hell of a time getting home."


	2. The Grand Army of Starfleet

Ahsoka Tano moved her Jedi starfighter out of hyperspace, the starfield coming into view beyond Coruscant, which loomed beyond the dome enclosing her in the little ship. "Master, I've been thinking… what if the Seps try to invade Coruscant?" The nineteen-year-old Togruta listened to her master's reply, still worried about droid attacks on the capital planet.

"I don't think they'll be trying it anytime soon, Snips. Still, even I can't help wonder…" Ahsoka was certain she heard a sarcastic tone that her master would never admit to.

_Yeah, I'll bet you can't help wonder…_ she thought, looking about her for droid patrols.

It had been rumored for months that the droids might try to take Coruscant or a nearby system, but nothing, yet, had come to bear fruit.

High above the city, Ahsoka's eyes quickly adjusted to the fading sunlight. Here and there, shuttle transports ran people from district to district, the passengers either going home or moving toward their favored cantina for a drink or two. Speeders made themselves more scarce with each passing moment, the calm favoring the night. Among the prominent sights and sounds of the city, though, were the A-grav thrusters of vehicles and the looming figures of the Senate Rotunda and, just beyond that, the Jedi temple.

As she banked and lowered altitude alongside her master, her eyes spotted three unfamiliar objects on the ground below; they were all smaller than Republic cruisers, all of unfamiliar design, and all rounded, though their propulsion system was unfamiliar. "What are those?" she said to herself.

"I don't know, Ahsoka. But the clones don't look like they're too worried. Let's take a closer look." Jedi Master Anakin Skywalker reduced his speed and dove toward the ground, landing a few meters away from the largest of the ships, which was nearly eight hundred meters long. It had a two-hull design and what appeared to take the place of familiar propulsion systems.

Admiral Yularen made his way over to him while Ahsoka looked on. "Master Skywalker, young Ahsoka, we've encountered these vessels earlier today. They're looking for a way home."

Ahsoka spoke first. "Are they equipped with starcharts, admiral?"

The admiral looked slightly troubled at the question. "They tell us that they have maps and navigational systems, but they tell us they are from a different universe, or some alternate reality. Until we can investigate further, their ships have been grounded. We're waiting for others to inquire, but with you two here, we might yet gain some insight."

"Where's their leader?" asked Anakin, fingering the hilt of his lightsaber cautiously.

"The commanders of each vessel are of the same rank." Knowing Anakin's inquisitive nature, the admiral continued, "Their names are captain Kathryn Janeway, of the _Voyager_," Yularen pointed to the smallest shape, "captain Jean-Luc Picard of the _Enterprise_," Yularen gestured at the nearest ship, "and Aston Shepard of the _Zhukov_." The admiral nodded at the second-largest of the shapes, which had a similarly-designed silhouette to the other two. "They are in their private quarters respectfully, if you wish to see them."

"I'll see Picard," said Anakin, heading toward the _Enterprise_. "Ahsoka, see about Janeway."

"Yes, master." Ahsoka gave a respectful bow to her master and turned to head toward the smallest vessel, which stood almost level with the base of the Senate Rotunda.

She was lead aboard the Voyager by a young-looking officer in a yellow uniform tunic. "Ensign Harry Kim," said the human, nodding and smiling at Ahsoka.

"Ahsoka Tano, Jedi." Ahsoka Sensed nothing negative about Ensign Harry Kim, but he did seem tired. "What kind of cruiser is this?"

"Well, we don't really think of this as a cruiser," said Harry Kim, turning left at the upper end of the ramp. "_Voyager_ is more like home to her crew. We were stuck seventy-thousand lightyears from our planet by some energy field we couldn't identify. We've been trying to get home for fourteen years." Harry Kim smiled again.

"It seems like you could get home in just a few days with your hyperdrive."

At this, Ensign Harry Kim frowned. "We don't have that type of propulsion. We're equipped… well, it's best I don't talk about it; part of the Prime Directive, one of our guiding laws." At an inquisitive look from Ahsoka, the human continued, "The Prime Directive states that unless the situation is absolutely imperative, we're not supposed to interfere in the affairs of an alternate universe or timeline. If we influence that timeline, even changing one little thing, the outcome of the alternate, and ultimately our own, could be disastrous. It could undo all of existence."

They had arrived outside what Ahsoka took to be a sliding door. "Here we are… captain's quarters." Harry Kim pressed a key on the wall panel, and a computerized chime sounded.

"Enter," said a gravelly female voice.

Ahsoka strode forward and allowed the door to slide open for her. She looked around; the quarters were comfortably lit, with a low table in the middle of the room, a functional, decorative lamp in one corner, and several potted plants. A view of the spaceport beyond was afforded by a row of portholes set into the wall opposite.

A woman strode out of a hissing door to the left, and before it closed, Ahsoka glimpsed a more-than-adequate bed in the room beyond. "Hello. I'm captain Kathryn Janeway, of the Federation Starship _Voyager_."

Ahsoka noted that this woman was not someone whose bad side she wanted to see. "I'm Ahsoka Tano, Jedi."

The captain nodded. "If you'd like, you could sit down. To be frank, I like to talk as equals to anyone I encounter on my travels." Ahsoka found the sofa quite comfortable. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No, captain. Thanks." Ahsoka nodded politely. She watched as the captain strode to a cubby set into the wall, said, "Coffee, black," and walked back toward her with a mug of a steaming drink in her hand.

"Are you here to investigate how we came to be here?"

"Yes, captain. My master, Anakin Skywalker, is aboard one of the other ships as we speak. The… _Enterprise_, I believe?"

Janeway nodded. "Jean-Luc. That's a good captain, there." She took a sip from her mug and continued. "Well, our sensors picked up ionic and protonic emissions. However, I suspect that there were high levels of neutrinos, as well." At Ahsoka's look of confusion, she said, "You've never heard of neutrinos?"

Ahsoka shook her head. "Captain, I'm more of an engineer and gunner than I am a scientist. I know about the formation of stars, but I'm not that knowledgeable."

Janeway smiled, the turned her head to look toward the door, but out into the middle-distance. The bun perched high on her head was prominent as her nose, though it was a far more opposing feature, making her appear human, rather than alien. Turning back to Ahsoka, she said, "Well, I'll put it this way… neutrinos are highly-charged waves of energy that can create phenomenon in space and, in most cases, time, as well. They disrupt sensors and are hard to detect. Ions and protons were also present, but they deal more in matter; this tells me that there was, at one point or another, a star at the exact point where we disappeared from our universe and found ourselves here." She paused for a moment. "D'you understand?"

"Yes, captain," nodded Ahsoka, folding her hands in her lap. For a moment, she remained quiet. Then; "Captain, there's something you ought to know… it's important that you understand you've landed your ship in the middle of a war between the Galactic Republic and the Separatists, people who want to disrupt the peace and quiet, and fend for themselves, forging their own way, making their own credit. If your weapons are as powerful as I think they are, they'll do anything they can to get their hands on them; as for your technology, I think you'd probably best not even mention it to Master Skywalker. He'll catch onto how it works, but even so, there're spies everywhere."

The captain looked neutral, but despite that, even without her jedi senses, Ahsoka could sense a concerned, if not terrified look in the captain's face.

"Thank you for the heads' up. I'll keep that in mind." Standing, despite her smaller stature, Janeway looked formidable. "I have one request, Ahsoka, and you can appeal to your superior. I ask, though, that you not mention it to anyone outside of those you know you can trust."

"Of course, captain." Ahsoka stood; her prominent Togruta horns made her thirty or so centimeters taller than her host.

"We'll need a guard, of sorts, aboard each ship. The guard might have to share quarters, but you'll find that Starfleet is often more than hospitable, even in times of need on our part. We'll also need someone with knowledge of local space, so that we'll be able to take advantage of spatial and temporal anomalies that could take us home." Captain Janeway returned her mug to the cubby and keyed in a command; it disappeared, leaving the space empty as before.

"We might be able to provide one or two jedi to these ships, captain. We're spread thin as it is, but we should be able to assist you where we can. And our clones might afford you extra defense."

Kathryn Janeway turned to the orange-skinned woman and smiled. "I think we might be able to take up that offer."

* * *

As the starfield came into view on the main viewer, captain George Alcott shifted uneasily in his chair. "Status-report," he barked to his science officer.

"All systems normal, sections reporting no abnormalities; however, sickbay reports minor scrapes and cuts, no major casualties, no fatalities." The Ferengi science officer looked up at his superior officer. "No time has passed between our entrance of the anomaly and now, sir."

Captain Alcott shook his head, muttering under his breath, "Damn." Several moments passed while he pondered his next order, but before he could reach a decision, the Ferengi spoke again.

"Captain, large flotilla entering sensor range at high speed! Range, three-point-four-two lightyears and closing! ETA, seventeen seconds."

"Impossible," murmured Alcott. "Red alert. All hands, battle-stations. Helmsman, bring us about and increase to maximum impulse." The warning sirens barked three times and the red alert flashers winked. "Where are we?" said Alcott to his navigational officer.

"Unknown, captain. These star formations do not appear on existing charts." Turning to the man, "We're lost in space."

As these words left the junior officer's mouth, the bridge rocked with the contact only weapon-fire could bring. "Evasive maneuvers! Concentrate phasers on the nearest vessel! Lock torpedoes and fire full salvo!" The orders were met with practiced ease by the bridge crew, and as the twang of the torpedoes died from the bridge, several more vessels entered sensor range, followed by a large squadron of fighters. It was unmistakable; Captain Alcott had brought the _Thomas Paine_ right into the middle of a conflict they ought not to be anywhere near.

"Captain, one of the irregularly-shaped vessels is hailing."

"Onscreen."

A tall, thin man of slightly greater than middle-age appeared on the viewer. His gray beard hid most of a frown, and he fingered a twisted, cylindrical-shaped device in an unconscious manner. "My name is Dooku. Power down your weapons and prepare to be boarded."

"Not until I know exactly what I've got my ship into," replied Alcott, rising from his command chair and allowing indignance to overpower his fear.

"You are in no position to make demands," said Dooku. Curiously, he leaned in. "Who are you?"

"I am captain George Alcott of the Federation Starship _Thomas Paine_."

The man named Dooku considered Alcott for a moment. "Lower your shields, and perhaps we can negotiate a surrender. Although I am not on a tight schedule, I can hardly allow you to take your time in doing as I ask." Dooku gestured to someone offscreen. "Perhaps you could provide us with the secrets of your technology. That could release a great deal of your crew when we board your ship."

"What you fail to realize, Dooku, is that the Federation is hardly the people that would give up their technology lightly. You've shown us acts of possible aggression, and that's something that doesn't exactly give us reason to trust you with our technology."

Dooku shook his head. "It was a mistake to oppose the Confederacy of Independent Systems so openly; it would be far worse if you were to oppose us as our prisoners." The face on the screen winked out and George Alcott turned to his crew.

"Is there anything we could do to get out of here now?"

"Warp propulsion is at forty-seven percent efficiency, captain. We might be able to make two-point-three, at best, but only for a period of some fourteen minutes, thirty seconds."

"Would that get us out of range of those ships?" The captain gestured toward the viewer with a jerk of his head.

The helmsman shrugged. "We might be able to buy ourselves enough time to prepare for a fight. Other than that..." His console blipped. "Captain, one of those oblong ships is pulling us in with a tractor."

"Fluctuate shield frequency. Don't let them lock on."

There were several moments of tension in which all officers attempted to find a solution to their dilemma. "No response, captain. We won't move under our own power."

"Fire a full salvo at their tractor, on my mark!" Captain Alcott stood, waiting to give the order. All eyes were on the captain; his eyes were riveted to the screen, waiting for oblivion. In the collective held breath of the bridge crew, the one word rang above everything else, even the steady thrumming of the engine's idling status. "Fire."

The Ferengi officer tapped at his console, and the twang of photon torpedoes met the ears of the waiting crew. Three flashes of light met the eyes of the watching, helpless onlookers, a sight that, although welcome, was the most critical moment. Nothing could be so beautiful or deadly for anyone in space, not for the Federation. The flash of fire meeting their eyes was enough to keep them open.

After several moments, the Ferengi looked down. "No effect, sir. Their tractor has not even slowed our motion toward them."

Alcott shook his head. "Jem, prepare for intruders. Commander Fisch, you have the bridge."

"Sir, seeing as they're an enemy we obviously know nothing about, I advise against that."

"Noted, Ephelia." Turning to Jem, the Ferengi, he said, "You take a squad and have them patrol the lesser corridors. I'll take a patrol up the mains. Rally point is the mess hall. If there's trouble, we meet there. Understood?"

"Yes sir." Jem pulled a phase rifle from behind his station and handed it to his superior, charging his own phaser and stalking after the captain.

"Captain to all hands: prepare for a boarding party. Possible intruder alert." When the lift had begun its descent, he and his officer felt the first stings of battle in the form of a shuddering turbo. "What do you think that would do to the shields?"

Jem shook his head, his large, protruding ears stationery over their globe. "If that did anything at all to the shields, supposing it's not an ion weapon, we'd probably only be able to take a few hits." He looked at his captain. "I've never been in battle before, captain, but I'm not a Ferengi that would run from a fight."

Alcott looked at his subordinate and smiled. "Don't let Weston hear you say that," he said with his knowing smirk. "I don't like the stereotype anymore than you do, but you can, of course, understand where she might get her distrust?"

"Of course, captain." The two did not say a word, and the turbolift doors opened.

"Captain, we're about to be boarded," said ensign Charlton, holding a phase rifle at a bear-arms position in respect for his commanding officer. "We're only a hundred meters from their docking bay, sir. It'll only be a few minutes." The captain nodded, a singular motion that he knew would not embolden the young man, though he seemed relieved. "What's the plan?"

"If that ship's as big as we think it is, the best we can do without sabotaging their ship is stall them. If a miracle appears in any form, we'll die doing our damndest to stop them from taking what they want."

The ensign looked forward, not gulping, though he sweated profusely. "What do they want?"

"How the hell should I know?"

A squad soon joined with the captain, Jem and the ensign and covered a docking hatch that could be penetrated if the enemy was persistent enough. Alcott directed the placement of his men, who obiediently, solemnly and quietly moved for cover where they could find it, leveling their weapons at the port. The captain, himself, stood to the right of the lintel, scanning his men for possible improvement in cover. No, he had no time to do it. He had no time to place them any better than he already had.

Peeking around the corner, captain George Alcott noted that it was too quiet. Pulling back to catch his breath and wait, he swallowed and looked around.

The universe exploded...

Captain Alcott woke up an indefinite time later, lain out carefully on a comfortable surface under a searchlight. _No,_ he thought as he came to. _No, it's an exam light in sickbay._ He felt fingers touching his forehead, and as his vision cleared, he recognized the face of Dr. Borglem. "Are you okay, captain?" said the doctor, scanning him with a tricorder.

"I'm fine."

"You had a nasty scrape back at hatch three. The intruders set some kind of charge on the door that went off and destroyed half that section." The doctor's face was pulled tight into a grimace. "Thirty-one wounded. Almost eighty dead."

"How...?"

"It's not from the door alone. You were one of the two injured. Three died from that blast."

But Alcott still wanted to know. "What combat wounds suffered killed that part of the crew?" His appeal to ship's doctor went unanswered for a while. "They were defending the ship from intruders. It took a couple hours to push them back, but we had a little help."

"From whom?" Two faces loomed into view; a woman in her fifties or sixties wearing a Starfleet uniform, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, soot caking her face. "Captain Janeway," said captain Alcott, smiling. "So _Voyager_ is still trying to make her way home?"

"Yes."

George studied the other face; she was young, no more than seventeen or eighteen, but with her blonde hair draped over her shoulders, she looked quite a bit younger. "I don't recognize you or your uniform."

The young woman nodded. "I realize that, captain. I'm from a time about two hundred years in your future. I'm not Starfleet, so divulging this little bit of information shouldn't be too much problem - in the time you came from, a well-renowned family by the name of Tipton is currently on a voyage to begin their own private government, apart from the United Federation of Planets. They have a few outcasts from different species following them." She paused for a moment. "I'm captain Bailey Picket, of the Tiptonian naval vessel _Founding Father_."

Alcott sighed, closing his eyes. "There've been rumors about a secret government flying about Starfleet for years. I guess this is what they meant." Turning to Janeway, he said, "How'd you come to be here?"

"I don't know, George. The only thing I know is that we arrived through a wormhole that seemed to be strafing us, almost like a phase rifle was leading its moving target." There was an awkward silence. "It's been quite a hell of a fourteen years. We've got to travel even further, apparently. And now that we're in a different universe, we're going to have to work on a way to get back to our own. Let me tell you in advance that we'll have to use our every engineering and science technique available to return."

"Captain Janeway, my ship is equipped with temporal equipment that might be of some use," said captain Pickett, straightening her dust-colored navy shirt. "We might be able to simulate a temporal effect that might help explain, if you provide the specifications of your spatial and matter reconstruction models for the time of departure from your timeline."

"Noted. B'ellana won't like it, but with the temporal effects taken into account, it'll add an entire new set of equations to her calculations. Still, if it gives us a way home... I'll get working on it immediately. Thank you, captain." She looked down at captain Alcott. "I think you should be good to leave sickbay, now. That is, if your doctor isn't objectionable."

Meanwhile, on the bridge of the _Voyager_, Ahsoka Tano stood behind the helm console of lieutenant Tom Parris, who tapped commands into the panel before him. "Sensors don't detect any vessels within range. Still, that doesn't mean they're not cloaked." He turned to Ahsoka. "D'you Sense anything?"

Ahsoka shook her head. "No. If I do, I'll let you know." She fingered the hilt of her lightsaber nervously. "I can't get over the feeling, though, that something's not right. Even when they're overwhelmed like that, the Seps don't give up that easily unless they're hiding something, regrouping, maybe. Their actions didn't match up with Dooku's words."

"Their ion trail is dissipating," noted Tuvok. "Perhaps, if we were to send a probe to follow the trail, we might gain some clue as to their plans."

"This isn't our war, Tuvok," said commander Chakotay. "I don't think we want to become any more involved than we already are."

"Your logic is faulty." Tuvok looked at his commander. "The Republic has been hospitable, commander. Perhaps our most effective course of action at this moment is to send a probe after the vessels. This could provide us clues to a way home."

Chakotay turned to him. "When you put it like that, it's hard to argue Tuvok." Facing forward again, he said, "Tom, do it."

"Yes sir."


	3. Attack of the Droids

Anakin sat before captain Jean-Luc Picard in the captain's ready room. "Our chief engineer has pinpointed a potential solution," Picard said. "It's going to take him a few more hours to enter the correct calculations into the computer, but it should take us home if it works."

Skywalker nodded approvingly. "We don't know an awful lot about time-travel in this universe, captain. Never mind interdimensional travel. We've never seen the need for it, and incidents have been realitviely few. I know there probably are some unreported cases, but beyond the ones I've heard, not too many more seem to appear." He stood. "I'll have the admiral appoint you a fighter escort. Guests here at times like these are our highest priority."

"I'm sure they are," said Jean-Luc. "We'll be sure to ask if we need anything."

"Good. I'll..." Anakin was cut off by the Red Alert sirens. "What...?"

"Possible enemy. They need me on the bridge." Jean-Luc strode onto the bridge and sat in his command chair. Before he could bark, "Status report!" Lieutenant-Commander Data had answered him.

"Captain, three _Providence-Class_ vessels moving to intercept at lightspeed-plus-nine-point-nine-nine... warp ten!"

"Bring all weapons to bear on those vessels! Scatter the shuttles!"

"Vessels are moving to intercept, captain! Distance, twenty-three kilometers and closing."

"Well inside weapon range. Target their shield emitters on my mark."

"Captain," said Anakin, standing and watching the images on the main viewer, "I wondered if I could get to my fighter?"

Turning to the Jedi, Jean-Luc studied him closely. "Go. If you need any assistance, don't hesitate to ask."

"I can handle myself, but I could use a little escort." He smiled.

Picard returned the gesture. "Ensign Crusher, you are assigned to fighter escort of General Skywalker. Keep close to him at all times, and be careful."

"Yes, Captain."

The bassy bark of the Klingon sounded from the ops panel. "Captain, the lead vessel identifies itself as the _Invisible Hand_, the flagship of General Grievous."

"Really," mused Picard. "Concentrate your fire on that ship. Full salvo of torpedoes and a spread of phasers, on my mark."

"Anytime, Captain."

"Target their critical systems and fire!" Worf responded by tapping his keys and studying his instrument displays.

"Mild damage to their forward shields, but they are closing quickly." The Klingon reviewed the panel. "Sir, they appear to be accelerating."

"Fire at will! Use your torpedoes wisely, Mr. Worf. Mr. Data, can we get anymore power into those nacelles to buy us a little more time?"

The android swiveled to meet the stern gaze of his captain. "Not without extreme risk to the _Enterprise_, Captain. The ship would not be able to withstand maximum speeds for more than twelve hours without-"

"Fine. Give us as much power as you can, and compensate what little we have leftover. Mr. Worf, if we need power to the weapons?"

"We should not unless we sustain a critical hit."

"Very well." The bridge was silent for a moment in anticipation when the ship rocked violently. "Damage report?"

Worf grunted. "Minimal damage, Captain. Shields holding at ninety-seven percent."

"Captain, _Venator-Class_ vessels approaching, vector zero-seven-seven, mark zero-seven-one."

"That'll be Yularen."

"A reasonable deduction, sir," said Data, who noticed the bridge shake beneath him. "They are hailing."

"Onscreen."

"Captain, I hope you find yourself in good company?" said the middle-aged, mustached officer.

"General Skywalker has agreed to hold off the droid flotilla as long as he can," said Picard. "All-in-all, he's given as much help as he can offer."

The admiral cringed at the statement. "Did anyone disembark with Skywalker?"

"One of my junior officers. Why do you ask?"

Yularen sighed. "We won't discuss this right now, but suffice it to say that Skywalker has a tendency to put comrades into extreme danger when he works with them."

"I still believe he is more than competent," said Picard. "When this is over, I'll talk to him."

"Captain, the _Invisible Hand_ has increased speed. They are drawing level with our trajectory."

"Damn," muttered Picard. "Mr. Data, evasive maneuvers, Pattern Theta." Data responded to his officer's orders with immediate precision, his hands flying over the helm console.

"They should not be able to maneuver as well as we are able to, sir, though they can anticipate trajectory based on-"

"Dammit, Mr. Data, enough already!" The bridge pitched violently, sending Picard sprawling from his chair. As he picked himself up, another weapon impact jarred the officer and his skilled crew, but everyone was occupied in their own job. Still, he was unsurprised when he felt Data's strong grip on his upper arm, helping him back to his high-backed command chair. "Who's got the helm?"

"That would be me, sir," said Guinan, who had avoided donning the eccentric hat and robes unique to her species. "I don't know much about piloting a starship, but I can keep us on a straight course."

"Just in time, Guinan. Just in time."

"The _Invisible Hand_ is pounding our shields, Captain," said Worf. "Their entire starboard battery is concentrated on critical systems. Starboard shields are presently at forty-seven percent and falling."

"Mr. Worf, target their weapons systems. Maximum power."

"Aye, sir." Worf responded with the skill and precision Picard had learned to expect from his tactical officer. "Sir, we are receiving a transmission from a Jedi Starfighter."

"Open the channel." When Picard heard the characteristic chime, he spoke. "This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Enterprise. With whom am I speaking?"

"I am Jedi Knight Barriss Offee. I think you could use some assistance."

Picard smiled inwardly, relieved. "We could indeed use some assistance."

"Standby." As Picard watched and waited, he stared out the viewscreen and saw the small shape of the Jedi Starfighter dip and swerve, dodging the attacks of the CIS ship's cannons.

"Mr. Worf, coordinate our attacks with Knight Offee, and give her some cover."

"Aye, Captain." The spark of phaser-fire flashed on the screen. The bridge rocked with the impact of weapons-fire impacting the ship, but her crew stood firm. "Their starboard battery has been damaged, sir. Our attacks will be more effective."

"Don't forget they still have fighters of their own, Mr. Worf. And we're less than three minutes from our rendesvous point at Kessel."

Data spoke up. "From a thorough analysis of the Droid fighters, I have concluded that ships in this universe are far more effective in sublight combat than in faster-than-light attacks."

"And the spatial distortion at Kessel?"

Data blinked. "Kessel is known for its black holes, sir. Although it is well-known for drug mining, the pirates in charge of these operations would not be as much of a danger as anomolies." Data turned to his captain. "I often find it curious human behavior that would cause one to participate in the use of recreational drugs, sir. However, it appears as though the 'spice' in this universe would be far more dangerous if one were to come into contact..." Data's console chirped. "Twenty seconds, sir."

"Slow for our approach."

As the _Enterprise_ dropped out of warp, the _Invisible Hand_ came about on the main viewer. "All hands, brace for impact!" As the firing arc of the Separatist's weapons put the Federation vessel in their crosshairs, the _Enterprise_ responded in kind with her own volley of phasers. "Mr. Worf, target their weapons and fire! Full salvo of torpedoes on those main cannons!" Worf again responded with precision, and as the beams of phasers dashed across the viewer, Picard beheld a welcome sight; just outside weapons range, _Founding Father_ had dropped out of warp and begun pelting Grievous' ship with fire.

* * *

Dooku watched as the battle raged, his ship well out of range of both the Republic and this new Federation. _I will have this Federation on their knees,_ he thought, chuckling. "Ahead full; let us give the Republic a taste of a true fight."

"Roger, roger!"

Dooku's cruiser moved into position, completing a maneuver with which he could bring any vessel to its end. "Launch the fighters now." He smiled as the Vulture droids flew into view on the other side of the viewing platform.

"Sir, the Federation vessels are overwhelming Separatist fighters with the help of three puny fighters."

"Jedi," mused the Count. "Just as my Master predicted." He nodded and turned on his heel. "You have the bridge, Commander."

He contemplated the Federation's role in the shaping of the new Confederacy. _Anyone who does not join will die. Anyone who submits will be greatly rewarded._ As he arrived in the hangar, he saw his fighter being brought out. "Has my ship been prepared?"

"Affirmitive, Supreme Leader. Repairs have been made and weapons have been replenished."

Dooku nodded. "Good." He marched up the ramp to the cockpit of his ship and sat behind the controls, closing the hatch and raising the landing gear as he made a few last checks. _Everything seems in order,_ he mused to himself. _I will crush the Jedi, and the Confederacy will prevail._

He looked to his right and saw a small squadron of Vulture droids forming on his wing. He gestured at them, using the Force to dictate his commands. The fighters obeyed, breaking off and going in pursuit of ARC-170s.

Banking toward an oncoming Federation vessel, Dooku smiled as more CIS ships arrived. "Just in time." Into his communications array, he said, "Flanking maneuvers."


End file.
